


Within Arm's Reach

by zestybee



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 05:24:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zestybee/pseuds/zestybee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren reflects on the inevitability of his death and what he leaves behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Within Arm's Reach

**Author's Note:**

> Short lil fic written by my boyfriend. He asked me to post since he doesn't use ao3 or tumblr.

_No…_

_Not like this…_

_I’m not done yet…_

It’s wet and there’s an oppressive heat; I could even be in a sauna if not for the scent of bile and bouquet of blood; interesting comparisons that arise in such situations. You’d think I’d be more focused on my missing leg, but oddly enough it doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. There’s some consolation in the fact that it’s too dark to see the mangled flesh that I know is there. There’s a vague ache akin to the growing pains of my adolescence radiating from above the knee where I felt the Titan’s teeth tear through. The pain was excruciating at first but now it’s just that dull throbbing that I assume is the feeling of my blood flowing unabated. A part of me wishes the pain was more sharp, to snap me to my senses in this womb of death. The only sense that isn’t being overwhelmed by my new environment is my sight; which is, as I mentioned, rendered completely useless by the darkness that surrounds. Deprived of it, my sight begins to conjure replacements.

All I can see before me is those I love, and have loved. I see Mikasa, with her raven hair that always marked her as an outsider to those in my family of auburn locks. Such skill in fighting that came so naturally to her as though through instinct, but considering her history I’m not surprised. She’s the only family I have left, and despite what all the other kids might have thought; that’s all she ever was. I can’t deny that in the confusing years of my youth, I would see her changing body and of course the thoughts you’d expect would come to mind. But we’ve been through so much and she’s all I have left, too much to risk for something so trivial. She’s already given me everything that I could want of her, so much more than I have given myself. I have no doubt that she would give herself over to me in whatever way I requested, but she’s already given me her loyalty, and that’s all I could ever hope to ask for.

I see my parents. I see my mother and try to bring to the forefront the image of her standing in the kitchen saying farewell as Mikasa and I went out to play, or laying me and Mikasa to rest in our beds. I can’t though, and all I see when she comes to mind is her body trapped beneath our house, reaching out to Mikasa and I as Hannes carried us to safety, the tears flowing down her face. I see the Titan pluck her from the wreckage and her struggle against it in futility. I see it put her in its mouth. I see the spray of her blood; my blood. I see my father, or at least what I can recall of him; the hair, the glasses, the coat. When I bring to mind his face all I can see is a look of terror and derangement I can never recall him making. It sends a shudder through me to look upon him, and though I’d like to think he’s out there, surviving all these years away; I know it’s naïve to assume that he would be spared when so many were not. That those monsters would give me any solace. Together they make a grim pair to behold, and I long to have my memories restored, to wash them and remove the taint, the perversion that has infected them so deeply that I cannot stand to recall them. These images that once drove me to reach my goals now only fill me with dread, a reminder of my inadequacy and failure to protect those I care for. I push them from my thoughts, banishing the ghouls that usurped my parent’s rightful place in my mind. As I push them out, one person comes to the forefront; my best friend and the last person I saw.

Armin. I see his golden hair and his smiling face from our childhood; not the terrified face that I saw not five minutes ago. It’s like we’re playing pretend again, running around the streets of our youth, devoid of wreckage and blood speckled stone. We were humanity’s most powerful soldiers, exploring beyond the wall, in the wilds that could only exist in our imaginations. We would cut down titans before they were more than just a nightmare story, barely surviving our encounters and then making camp for the night when my parents allowed sleepovers. Sometimes we would make pretend that we wouldn’t be able to find shelter and would roost like birds in the heights of impossibly large trees we brought to existence in our imaginary world. We would share a sleeping bag to conserve heat in the chilling winds in the heights of those branches. We’d talk for hours on our backs, staring at the ceiling that would be the stars. He would often say he was cold, and I was never sure if he was or was simply committed to the charade. I would get closer to him, pushing my warmth against his, holding my body close to it and wrapping my arms around his shivering frame; separated only by our cotton nightclothes. I could feel his gentle breathing as his shivering would recede. His hair would engulf my face and the smell of it would fill my nostrils, dried sweat mixed with oak; the former from our play, the latter from his childhood home. At times, I would feel the urge and would hold him closer to me, squeezing his frail figure with all my strength, bringing his warmth closer. I don’t know why, but it always brought me an irreplaceable comfort. Maybe it’s the same reason I stopped the older boys from teasing or hurting him.

I guess I’ll never know now. We traded the boys of our youth for the monsters of our present and look at where we are now. I suppose there is some solace; some silver lining I can cling to; that although the Titan took a leg, they did not take these arms that once held him. These arms that, I hope, gave him shelter from whatever fears might have plagued him. What will happen to him now that I won’t be there to protect him; to hold him? Where will he find sanctuary when I am gone and he weeps bitter tears at my passing? Mikasa was always there to help me protect him, but I think she always did it more for my sake than his. She’ll be too consumed by her own grief to console Armin in his. She’s strong and will carry on, fulfilling our dream for both us. But who will hold him? Who will keep him warm in the cold?

_I will._

**Author's Note:**

> be gentle


End file.
